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.“You’re a pervert,” she shot back.He laughed some more.“Guilty as charged.”Things south of her waistband clenched again and she strode to the door as she thought about getting to know every perverted inch of him.What the fuck was wrong with her?“I’m going out tonight,” she said.Even though she wasn’t.She just couldn’t stand another night at home with him.Without a shirt.She’d ring a girlfriend.Drink fruity cocktails.Flirt with men.“Okay,” he said as she opened the door.“I’ll be at home.Waiting…”Sal didn’t stick around to hear what he’d be waiting for—she already knew.His low, rumbly chuckle followed her out the door.…A few hours later, it became apparent that she would not be having a girls’ night out.A distressed Mrs.Carney walked through the doors just before close carrying a drooling Boxer.“He can’t move his back legs,” she wailed at Doyle, her hatless head the truest indicator of the seriousness of the situation.Doyle swooped in and relieved the birdlike woman of the hefty bundle.She looked at him.“I think it’s a tick.”Mrs.Carney sagged after she’d been relieved of her burden and Sal, hovering nearby, was there for her to lean on.“Have you found it?” he asked.She shook her head.“I looked but there’s nowhere obvious.Will he be all right?”“We’ll do all we can,” Sal assured, as Doyle strode ahead with a lethargic Boxer and she sent a swift prayer up to whichever gods might be on duty this afternoon.She wasn’t sure whether that would help or not, given her less-than-amiable relationship with religion, but Boxer was an old dog and his diabetes was a comorbidity he didn’t need in the face of an envenomation, so she’d take what she could get.Sal worked in tandem with Doyle once they were in the treatment room.He looked for the source and she did a quick assessment.Boxer’s back legs were useless, he had a cough, and his breathing was labored when she listened to his chest.His patient brown gaze held such faith it stabbed Sal right through the heart.“Got it,” Doyle said suddenly, pulling the tiny creature from under his collar and holding it up to the light.Mrs.Carney, sitting off to the side on a stool, fanned herself.“Oh, dear,” she fretted.“It’s all my fault.I’ve been taking him for a walk on that bush track at the back of the retirement village trying to get him to lose some weight.”“The hows don’t matter now,” Doyle said, smiling kindly at the old woman, reaching his hand out and covering her old crinkled one with his big tanned one.Sal’s heart just about melted out of her chest.“What matters is that we’ve got it and we can give Boxer the antivenom.His diabetes will complicate things—we’ll need to monitor that as well—but I’m confident we’ve caught it in time.”Mrs.Carney gave a weak smile and patted Doyle’s hand.“I hope so.He’s all I’ve got,” she said, her voice distinctly wobbly.“I don’t know how I could go on without him.”She turned beseeching eyes to Sal.“You will do everything, won’t you, Sally? It doesn’t matter what it costs, I’ll pay anything.”Sal nodded.“Everything.Absolutely,” she assured.“I promise.” Boxer was a lovely old boy and Sal knew she’d donate her own blood to save his life if she had to.Mrs.Carney smiled.“You’re a good girl, Sally.A credit to your father, both you and Mack.And I know you of all people know how hard it is to lose someone you love.”Sal was momentarily taken aback by the unexpected comment.There were few people around the clinic who knew of the things she didn’t talk about.But this was Mrs.Carney’s fourth dog in as many decades, and she’d been a Kennedy Vet Practice client from the very early days.Sal gave her arm an awkward squeeze.“We’ll look after Boxer for you, I promise,” she said, keeping up the reassuring smile despite the way Doyle’s head had lifted and the heavy fan of his interested gaze.“Why don’t you go on home and I’ll keep you up to date, I promise.”Sal left Doyle inserting an IV to escort Mrs.Carney out, leaving her in Gemma’s capable hands.When she came back, she was all brisk and businesslike, determined not to be drawn into a conversation over what Mrs.Carney had let slip.But she needn’t have worried—Doyle was also concentrating on the welfare of Boxer, and she soon forgot about it as they worked to save the much-loved pet’s life, getting the antivenom going and some fluids running.Doyle took him out the back to the longer-care facility when the antivenom was through to monitor him for the next few hours.It was early Friday evening by this time, and the clinic was closing up.“Go home,” Doyle said.“He’s my patient.I’ll sit with him until I’m sure he’s turned the corner.”Sal shook her head.Boxer may officially be Doyle’s patient, but she’d known him since he was a puppy and Mrs.Carney since forever.It didn’t feel right taking off when he was fighting for his life.“I’ll help them close and do the clean and setup for tomorrow first.”He shrugged.“You’re the boss.”A few hours ago she might have had a loaded response, but in the face of Boxer’s condition, she didn’t feel like making any kind of crack.She just got on with the job, and it was good to have that to occupy her for the next hour as she fretted over Boxer and what Mrs.Carney would do without him
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